


The Tenth Sister

by Milly



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, The Altverse, virtual season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-13
Updated: 2010-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-24 19:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milly/pseuds/Milly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Doctor's plan for an anniversary celebration is ruined, his back-up plan leads them to meet with one of Rose's favorite authors. But celebration is the last thing on their mind when it becomes obvious that something is wrong - something that could threaten the life and sanity of everyone it crosses path with.</p><p>Episode 6 of a virtual series at <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://the-altverse.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://the-altverse.livejournal.com/"><b>the_altverse</b></a> , following <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/the_altverse/2920.html">The Stuff of Nightmares</a> last week.<br/><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/the_altverse/343.html">Virtual Series Masterlist</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanksto [](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/)**shinyopals** for all the help and to everyone who provided assistance and compassion. A bit of a scare, some humor and a pinch of romance.

Darkness had spread all over London, the moon casting only a faint light on the city. The weather was cold and everyone had long since turned in for the night, even the majority of those who made their living during the dark hours. The penumbra spread to most of the windows, though some still remained lit, their occupants having let the candle run its course, with a very few still awake.

There was no one left in the streets to take notice of the quiet rumble that grew louder every minute. Over the dark water of the Thames, a light appeared, then another. Bubbles broke the surface at a quickened pace as more lights disrupted the darkness.

This, a few did take notice of.

One street down, a woman pushed aside the curtains and peered through the window. The sight that greeted her on the other side left a look of shock on her face. As far as she could tell, the Northern Lights were visible about the river, undulating in a succession of blue and soft pink. After a few more minutes, the colours dissipated, leaving only darkness. The woman allowed the curtains to fall, unsure of what she had seen, but not letting it trouble her. Sitting back at her writing desk, she took her quill and returned to her work.

Had she remained at her window just a few seconds longer, she might have seen something that would have left her a bit more troubled. Standing in the street directly below the window, a figure was looking up.

\--

The Doctor had only told her two things. First, that she should get dressed for the early 1800's. Second, that she would simply love it. This was all he would let her know about his secret plans to celebrate their first wedding anniversary. Wandering back into the control room, she was still going through all the possibilities in her head while at the same time attempting to get the back of her dress fastened.

The Doctor was eagerly waiting by the door, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands deep in his pockets. He was wearing a dark brown suit and she rolled her eyes when she caught a glimpse of it. Why of course, she had to dress up in the proper get up, but he was just going to go with his regular attire. “Can you do the back?”

He promptly filled her request, getting the buttons done quickly. She was about to turn around when she felt the heavy weight of fabric on her shoulders. Her hands reached up and she touched thick wool. He had draped a black coat over her shoulders.

“What's this, then?”

He grinned. “You'll need it! You'll see!”

She shrugged and fastened the coat. She would find out soon enough, so it was no use protesting. It was more fun going blind anyway. A second later, she questioned the veracity of that statement when he covered her eyes with his hands. “Doctor!”

His only response was a “shhh” and a gentle push to move forward. She heard the TARDIS doors swing open in front of her and she took a few tentative step. She trusted him, but she still wanted the assurance that she would not fall face first on pavement. A cold chill hit her and she suddenly understood just why he had put the coat on her.

“You’ll see, Rose! There’s skating and huts and you can even drink warm wine! You’ve never really seen the Thames until you’ve seen it like that!” he exclaimed before removing his hands from her eyes. “Welcome to the Frost Fair!”

Rose peered down at the black water. “Looks the same to me…”

“I… what?”

He paused, seemingly paying attention to the actual horizon and not just his mental image for the first time. It did not please him.

“It’s supposed to be frozen! 1812!” he said emphatically, arm extended to point at the very much unfrozen Thames. She pressed her lips together, trying her best not to laugh because that would only make him feel worse. It was no use; she burst out laughing when his eyes met hers. “It’s not funny! There are supposed to be people skating on the Thames and huts and warm wine!”

The more he protested, the more she had to fight to regain her composure. People gave them disapproving looks as they walked by, obviously of the opinion that Rose’s actions failed to meet with the standards of etiquette they were accustomed to.

“Excuse me!” the Doctor exclaimed, stopping an elderly couple in their tracks. The woman gasped, bringing one hand to her chest, and the man recoiled slightly as though frightened. “Would you happen to know why the Thames didn’t freeze this year?”

The man gave the Doctor a dubious look, then his eyes shifted to Rose.

“We heard so much about the Frost Fair,” she added helpfully.

“Frost Fair?” came the very confused response.

The Doctor appeared frozen in place, mouth slightly ajar. A moment later, his shoulders slumped and he sighed. The woman was already tugging on her husband’s arm, signalling to him that she would very much like to take her leave from the deranged couple now, please, if that was not too much of a bother. He gladly followed her lead.

“Alternate universe?” Rose offered, though she knew that was of little comfort to him.

He joined her by the railing, burying his face in his hands without bothering to answer.

“It’s fine, Doctor. We can just wander about, we don’t need to do anything special.”

She knew how touchy he was about getting things wrong because of the alternate universe and he had been especially excited about bringing her here.

“As long as we’re together, yeah?”

He glanced up at that and looked at though he was about to speak, when something behind her caught his attention. His face split in a wide grin and he took her hand in his.

“Rose Tyler, I promised you an anniversary celebration and you’ll get it. Mind me, you’ll even get a ball.”

She frowned. He wiggled his eyebrows.

One thing was certain, she loved this crazy, fantastic man.

\---

The Doctor was feeling the bitter disappointment that had just invaded him fade quickly, pushed to the back of his mind by a renewed sense of excitement. He wasn't going to let their first wedding anniversary go by without celebrating it somehow. He had been planning to take Rose to the Frost Fair one day for weeks, even before they had known the TARDIS was ready, and this had felt like the perfect occasion. Not that he really wanted to plan too much ahead, but there might have been a few things he wanted to make absolutely sure to show her. Not really strict planning, just ideas.

Okay, so _maybe_ he had something in his pocket that could perhaps constitute a list. A flexible one.

This new idea was even better, in his very humble opinion. He offered Rose his arm and she took it, the promise of adventure putting a twinkle in her eye. One finger pointing in the direction of a town house in front of them, he winked at her.

“How 'bout that ball, then?”

As far as he could tell by looking at her, a ball sounded very, very good. Rose had made sure to change into appropriate clothes after all, they could not possibly let that be for nothing.

Gaining entry was even easier than he had imagined. A few “we are acquaintances of the family” here, a few “have you not received our letters?” there and a heavy dose of “Doctor John Smith and his wife Rose” had them in the house in less than ten minutes.

\--

Rose had to admit, watching the Doctor talk and network his way into the ball had been enjoyable, though nowhere near as much as being able to step inside and away from the cold. The crowd was dense, the house was warm and she was more than happy to be there. Running from aliens had no equal, but every now and then, some downtime was quite welcomed. In addition to all her desires for at least a short holiday, the house was simply stunning. The room they were led to had a high ceiling, with walls of a rich creamy colour.

“So, ball involves dancing, yeah?”

“As well as chit chat, games...”

“...but mostly dancing,” she concluded with a wink, taking his arm again after someone came to collect her coat. Her dress was not quite exactly of the same fashion as the ones she could see on the other women as she eyed the room, but she did not care. It would do and truth be told, she only really cared about enjoying her time here. Time was relative in the TARDIS, so she had not thought they would really celebrate their anniversary, but now she was rather pleased with the idea. Her mother would probably have something planned when they visited her next, but this time was theirs to have.

As it turned out, the Doctor appeared to be enjoying the dancing far more than she did. It all seemed like a too well rehearsed choreography she had skipped too many practises to. The Doctor, on the other hand, fit right in. He tried to explain the steps as they went, but she found herself bumping into quite a few shoulders.

“You're doing fantastic!” the Doctor told her when they came face to face again. She groaned, though she had to admit she was finally getting the hang of it. She only stepped on one other foot before the dance was over, after what felt like an eternity. When the Doctor asked her for another dance with a teasing smile, she poked his side.

“Oi! Show me some of that chit chatting instead”

“Regency era society is regulated by rules regarding acquaintances. You have to know someone who will introduce you to other people and then, you decide to...” the Doctor began, leading her away from the dancers. “...Hello, I'm the Doctor”

Rose had been so absorbed by the Doctor's explanation of the social etiquette of the time, she had not seen the woman come their way. She was middle-aged, with dark brown hair and very surprised. Rose was starting to suspect that was to be the general reaction to their presence. Except that in this woman's case, it was followed by a frown, not an air of false recognition like the people they had previously talked to.

“Oh. You must be Doctor Smith! I've... heard a lot about you. Mind you, most of it was tonight, I'm sorry to say I don't recall having made your acquaintance before.”

The woman's quick recovery appeared to please the Doctor greatly, except for one small detail.

“Just the Doctor.”

“And you are?” the woman continued as though she had not heard him or pretended not to, her focus shifting to Rose.

“Rose Tyler.”

“Tyler?” the woman repeated, the slight frown deepening.

“Yes.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?” Rose repeated, now also frowning. The woman's judgemental tone and complacent attitude were starting to annoy her to the point of retaliation.

“Forgive me, I assumed that Doctor Smith and you were married. Is that not a wedding band?”

“It's _the Doctor_...,” he started to protest, but neither Rose nor the older woman acknowledged him.

“Yes, it is and yes, we are,” Rose interrupted, the growing irritation evident in her tone.

“Then you are Rose Smith. Or he is Doctor Tyler.”

“It's just the ...” the Doctor began again, through halfheartedly this time.

“It's _just_ the Doctor, and my name is Rose Tyler,” Rose cut him off, in a steady but authoritative voice. That was the voice she used on new Torchwood trainees to make them too afraid of skipping out on the job or to make the alien threats cower in fear. On the woman standing before them, it had seemingly no effect.

“Ah,” she repeated, her face devoid of emotion but her eyes sparkling. Rose realized that she was actually enjoying herself and it only made her angrier.

“AH,” Rose echoed sharply. She was growing agitated, though she knew she was only being childish. This was the regency era, this was polite society and these sorts of questions were to be expected. Still, there was something in the woman's tone and composure that led her to think that she was actually purposefully seeking confrontation. “And you are?”

“Jane. Jane Austen. It has been delightful to meet you, Doctor Smith and Rose Tyler,” the woman replied, insisting on both their names. “Now, if you'll please excuse me”

“It's just the...” the Doctor began, his voice drifting off as he gave up on the effort. His eyes followed Jane as she moved past him and then they went back to Rose. He found her standing as though stunned, mouth agape and staring at the place where the author had stood just a moment before.

“She was...” Rose began, staring blankly ahead, even though Jane had gone.

“I know! Jane Austen!” the Doctor interrupted excitedly and she knew that he was simply beaming with pure joy from the tone of his voice. A few more blinks and she turned to him, confirming her suspicions. He froze as he caught sight of her expression. The grin left his face and was replaced by a frown so quickly it would have been comical had she been in the proper mood. “What? What's wrong?”

“She was _mean_ ,” Rose finished. Again, the swift change of expression. Understanding washed over his features.

“Ah.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he winced.

“Sorry,” he said, reaching to scratch the back of his neck. Fortunately for him, something caught Rose's eyes beyond his shoulder and seeing that she was no longer focusing on him, he turned to follow her gaze.

Jane had but reached the threshold of the room before she had been stopped by a small gathering of women. All were dressed in similar dresses and sported nearly identical hairstyles, making it difficult to tell them apart. Still, by the way she stood among the group and in her manner of addressing Jane, it was possible to tell which had more social standing. The others looked on with great interest as Jane and the blonde leader of the pack exchanged a few words. Rose and the Doctor watched as a look of confusion slowly settled on the woman's features, then was echoed in three other faces. Jane took leave of them and the women watched her go in silence, then turned to each other and giggled. Rose rolled her eyes. Some things never did change.

Between the moment they had decided to join the party and their dreadful turn on the dance floor, they had learned a few things. This was the town house of Isaac Edward Austen, where he lived most of the year with his twin daughters, Amelia and Clara. Though the name had been familiar -of course it had- the thought that they could be related to the author had never even occurred to her.

“It’s kind of brilliant though, don’t you think? I mean, here we are coming for the Frost Fair, which never happened here because there’s… well, no frost to speak of, and _bang_ , Jane Austen,” the Doctor said behind her.

“What’s a Frost Fair?”

Clara was standing directly behind them, her hair immaculately pinned in an elaborate up-do. Two curls coming down on each side bounced almost comically as she looked from one to the other.

“It’s a …”

He turned to Rose for some kind of cue, but she only cocked an eyebrow at him. She was rather interested in seeing just how he would explain that one. He was usually a rather talented storyteller, but the simplest questions would sometimes throw him off and as far as she was concerned, those were the best times.

“… book, I’m considering writing. Really, all about the effects of the cold on the disposition of certain people.”

Clara stared.

“The details are very complex, I’m sure they wouldn’t interest you,” he sniffed, putting on his best airs.

Cara smiled and to Rose’s great surprise, then proceeded to clap excitedly.

“Oh, but what marvellous news! I was entertaining a thought of introducing you to my late mother’s sister, Mrs Shannon. You see, my poor aunt has been suffering terribly this winter and the last. Now I know that it must be fate, you arriving here tonight, before your letters even reached us!”

As she spoke, Cara took the Doctor’s arm and started dragging him away across the room. He blanched and turned to Rose, mouthing “Help Me”. Rose made a pout, as though pitying him, then waved. He frowned, but the crowd soon closed around him and shielded him from her vision.

The Doctor would be fine and anyway, she had other concerns. Her eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces, she finally saw Jane sitting on a very uncomfortable-looking sofa. She was surrounded by a few women, none of which Rose recognized. Fine, it would not be the first time she had braved a pack of unknown girls. They could not really be scarier than a pack of dinosaurs, could they? Probably not by much, at any rate.

Taking a deep breath, she began a rather difficult trek through the crowd. She considered it no small victory that she had only been stopped twice by people interested in either her dress or her estate. When finally she reached her destination, there only remained two other women with Jane. Jane looked up as she approached and if she had not known any better, she could have sworn she had seen relief on the woman’s face.

“Ah! Mrs Brook and Miss Lucas, please allow me to introduce to you Mrs Rose _Tyler_. She is Doctor Smith’s wife. Please, do sit.”

Rose did just that, sitting down next to the woman she believed to be Mrs Brook. Her new neighbour turned kind eyes to her.

“Rose, this is Mrs Brook. She is an acquaintance of my cousins, come to visit here while her husband has been travelling… to Spain, was it?”

Jane’s boredom came through clearly as she spoke and it was obvious that she was doing the introductions more out of obligation than actual enjoyment.

“Italy, actually. I did plan to go with him, but the cold winter suits me best.”

Rose, who was just starting to feel her toes again, could not have disagreed more with the sentiment. She still smiled and nodded.

“And Miss Lucas. Charlotte was it? I’m sorry, I have such a terrible memory for names.”

Rose started a bit at that, which Jane appeared to notice though she made no comment. Like a majority of British girls, she had grown very familiar with the author’s novels. Though not her favourite, _Pride and Prejudice_ had held a special place in her teenaged heart. Coming across a woman with the same name as one of the characters simply could not be just coincidence.

“I have heard a lot about your writing, Miss Austen,” Rose blurted out suddenly. Three pairs of eyes turned to her, all equally perplexed. Years of English lessons rushed through Rose’s mind as she tried to remember when Jane’s novels had first been published. 1811 for the first novel, she remembered. Published anonymously.

Oh.

Still, she had learned from the best teacher. She did a quick scan with her eyes, looking for a detail that she may use to her advantage.

“Your hands. I noticed the ink on them. And your cousins are very fond of you, truly, they are such a great source of information.”

“While I concede the second, I have to admire your perception skills. You are right, yes. I do write, though I would be surprised if you ever hear much of it in the future. The words do not come as easily as the ink stains, I’m afraid.”

Jane’s interest in Rose seemed to have increased tenfold.

“So you’re having trouble writing your novel’s ending?” Rose continued, supposing the novel to be well on its way since it was to be published the very same year.

“My, you seem to know even more than you let on, Mrs. Tyler. It’s always about the ending though, isn’t it? A bad effort can be saved if well served by a good ending, but the opposite is also true. The author never really knows how the reader wishes the book to end, so perhaps novels should have no endings and people should be free to imagine as they like.”

“I think people like good endings,” Rose said with a frown.

“But do things ever really end well?”

Jane’s words were followed by silence. Only two participants were truly involved and it was obvious the other two felt left out and out of depth. Mrs Brooks cleared her throat, placing her hand over Rose’s on the couch.

“I think we can allow our Jane one night without worrying her mind about her writing, can’t we? After all, who knows what inspiration new acquaintances may bring?”

\--

The Doctor's eyes were still wide with horror when he rushed through the first door he came across. He had just heard enough about Mrs Shannon's gout to inspire a lifetime of nightmares and the old woman had seemed rather keen on also describing the terrible arthritic pain she was suffering from. After keeping his eyes on the door for a few moments to make sure no one had noted his escape and decided to follow him, he turned to look at his surroundings.

Dishes, pans, cupboards, stunned maid.

“Kitchen!”

The maid let out a small gasp when he spoke, then was silent. She could not have been more than sixteen, her features still childish though she stood too tall to be much younger. Her green eyes were fixed on him and she was clutching a plate against her chest. At once, she finally collected herself enough to attempt to speak “May I help you, sir?”

“No, no, no. No. I'm just...,” he said, hand waving about the room. When he couldn't think of anything to say, he opted for a question. “What's your name?”

“Aubrey, sir.”

“Aubrey? That's a rather uncommon name 'round these times.”

“Aubergine, sir. My mum fancied the word, said it sounded delicate. Bless her soul, I'd rather she not have named me after a vegetable,” the young servant said, then pulled a face at her last words. Suddenly, realization that she was talking to a guest and not someone of her social rank appeared to strike her again and she froze, eyes wide. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“It's a fruit,” the Doctor said, which in no way eased her distress, so he offered her a reassuring smile. “I think it's pretty”.

Colour rushed to her cheeks and she bowed her head, avoiding his gaze by busying herself with picking up dishes around the kitchen. She only looked up when he handed her a small stack of plates he had himself picked up from the table behind him. Awe settled in her features and she took it from him with far more gratefulness than was deserved.

“Have you been working here long, Aubrey?”

“Just 'bout a year, sir. I was still a girl when my dad died and not much older when my mum passed. I was very lucky to get this station.”

Before he could say anything, another woman entered the kitchen. Unlike Aubrey, the look on her face betrayed anger at finding him there, not surprise. From her clothes, he could tell she was the cook and from her tone of reproach, that she was very touchy about people coming into her kitchen. “This area is not for guests, sir.”

“Yes, I was just leaving, me. Only came to command Aubrey here on the excellent work she has been doing.”

The cook eyed him wearily, then looked at Aubrey. The teenager's lips formed a thin line, the upward turned corners betraying her. The cook narrowed her eyes at the maid, then spun on her heels and was out the way she came. Aubrey's laugh was crystalline and childlike, confirming his suspicions about her age. He grinned at her.

A second later, the laughter was gone. Aubrey's hands went up as she screamed, the plates toppling down and crashing loudly on the floor. The Doctor was by her side in an instant, taking hold of her arm and looking at her in the eyes. He could feel her shaking.

“What's wrong?”

“I thought... I thought...” the young maid said, looking down at the plates, then back at him. Next, she raised one shaky hand in front of her eyes to examine it, obviously confused. “I thought I saw spiders. On my hands…”

“Spiders?”

“I hate spiders. Just thinking about them makes my skin crawl, sir,” she explained, appearing a bit calmer. She bent down to start picking up the pieces and he helped, eyes sweeping the debris to find anything that might even remotely look like an arachnid. He was not quite certain why it made him so uneasy, after all people thought they saw something from the corner of their eye all the time, but the strength of Aubrey's reaction had troubled him. Once all the pieces were picked up, Aubrey thanked him and did a small curtsy before retiring to the room the cook had previously come from.

“Is he gone? That tall skinny guest who thinks he can just wander in the kitchen?” came a voice from the other side and the Doctor instantly abandoned any thought he had entertained about following Aubrey. Peeking out the door to make sure Mrs Shannon had gone, he made a swift escape.

\--

Rose was still laughing at his misadventures when they were shown to the room the Austens had offered them for the night. He was still rather impressed that they had managed to pass themselves off as family without any help from the psychic paper. Every one had probably been a bit too embarrassed to admit that they did not remember Doctor Smith and his wife. Once or twice, Amelia had even come to them with a story about their first acquaintance.

“Oh, you probably need to remember that we were here two Christmases ago and that we planned on a French holiday after we leave here,” Rose said, hopping on the bed. The mattress was thick and she bounced a few times before finally settling.

“France?”

“What? It's fancy!”

Rose pulled her tongue at him and rather than the smile she probably expected, he gave her a look that he knew by her expression had made her heart do somersaults. For the first time in hours, he remembered why they had come here in the first place. Proper celebrating had to be attended to, after all. He had taken only one step in her direction when a knock on the door broke the silence, making him jump back as though burnt.

“Come on in.”

The Doctor’s eyes softened when he saw Aubrey come in. Heavy bundles of fabric were draped over her arm, so long that they were almost touching the ground. She looked even more nervous than she had when he had first surprised her in the kitchen. Upon seeing him, some tension left her shoulders, but he noted that her eyes kept going to the shadows.

“Sorry for coming in so late, sir. Miss Clara asked that these dresses be brought to you, because it appears that your trunks have not made it here. She thought your wife might be in want of something to wear on the morrow.”

Rose got to her feet, gladly taking the dresses from Aubrey’s shaking hands. The maid did a quick half-curtsy, obviously eager to leave, before doing just that.

“She seems nice,” Rose commented once Aubrey had gone, placing the dresses down on the chest at the end of their bed. Reaching behind her to undo the bodice of her dress, she grunted as she fruitlessly tried to reach for buttons. Without further prompting, he stepped behind her and began to undo her dress. At least, Rose had opted for a dress that gave all the appearance of having a corset without requiring her to wear one and she was soon free of the constraints of her dress.

“Very nice.”

His hand slid against the skin he had just bared and Rose chuckled.

“Are we still talking about the maid?”

Her laughter caught in her throat when he pressed his lips against the pulse point of her neck. If he had to pick one thing about Rose that he loved the most, that exact spot would be a strong contender. He had been confronted with his own humanity a few times and with hers more times than he liked to remember. At that exact spot, he could feel Rose’s heart beating – sometimes rather wildly as was the case now. He always thought the words so hard to find, and yet tonight they filled his mind, threatening to spill out at any second.

“When I said I wanted to spend my life with you, on the beach, I meant every word,” he whispered against her skin, his arms wrapping around her waist. He pulled her back flush against his chest and she covered his hands with hers over her stomach.

“I know.”

“Whatever happens, good or bad, I want every minute, every second.”

“I know,” she repeated, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

“But they are so few, Rose. I just hope that this…,” he continued, kissing her pulse point again. “… I hope this doesn’t stop beating too early, that it doesn’t cut our seconds short, because I’ll have been too careless.”

She spun in his arms, wrapping her own around him in a tight embrace. “Are you okay?”

He kissed the top of her head, then sighed. “Yeah. I’m just... tired?”

Rose pulled back, looking at him with a mocking grin on her face. He had almost sounded astounded at his own admission. “Is that just an excuse to get me into bed, Doctor?”

“Me? Never,” he said, then pulled her for a kiss. Truthfully, he really did feel tired – drained even. They had not had much rest in the last few days and as much as he hated it, he truly needed to sleep. Just one more quirk of being half-human he had yet to fully adapt to. “I am, though. Tired, I mean. Is that okay?”

“Well, I do take it as a great offence to my womanly wiles, but I think I’ll recover,” she answered, then smiled wide with her tongue caught between her teeth, making him ponder on how exhausted he _really_ was.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Doctor's plan for an anniversary celebration is ruined, his back-up plan leads them to meet with one of Rose's favorite authors. But celebration is the last thing on their mind when it becomes obvious that something is wrong - something that could threaten the life and sanity of everyone it crosses path with. 
> 
> Episode 6 of a virtual series at [](http://the-altverse.livejournal.com/profile)[**the_altverse**](http://the-altverse.livejournal.com/) , following [The Stuff of Nightmares](http://community.livejournal.com/the_altverse/2920.html) last week.  
> [Virtual Series Masterlist  
> ](http://community.livejournal.com/the_altverse/343.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksto [](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/)**shinyopals**   for all the help and to everyone who provided assistance and compassion. A bit of a scare, some humor and a pinch of romance.

The room was dark and a tad blurry when Rose opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, the fog of sleep clearing and making the details of the room come into focus. Next to her, she could make out the rise and fall of the Doctor’s back. He was fast asleep, which was to be expected. Why wasn’t she?

The recurrence of the noise that had pulled her from slumber made her sit up abruptly and after making sure she had not disturbed the Doctor’s tranquillity, she got out of bed. The floor was cold as ice and she let out a muted gasp, cursing under her breath.

“Shoes…shoes…”

The much needed protection was spotted right next to the fireplace and she quickly hopped in their direction. Slipping them on, she wiggled her frozen toes in their new warm shelter. Clearly, someone, somewhere, held a grudge against them.

The repeated noise caught her attention again. Going back to the bed, she dug deep into the Doctor’s pockets. Guesstimating based on the shape and texture of the objects, she pushed aside a comb, a few jelly babies and something furry, before finally closing her hand on what she was looking for. The sonic screwdriver would do as a torch in a pinch, after all.

After a quick change of settings, she left the room. As she wandered down the corridor, she made sure to aim the light low, so as not to surprise anyone who might be left traumatized by the piece of technology. The noise was growing louder now. It sounded like paper being crunched in a ball, or shuffling about. A little bit ahead of her, she thought she heard the click of a door closing and she raised the beam a little, but saw nothing.

Turning a corner, she finally spotted a source of light and she turned off her torch, pocketing the sonic screwdriver. She had to admit, the robe one of the twins – she could not remember which, Clara? Amelia? – had sent for her was rather practical. Its major fails had more to do with comfort; it wasn’t fluffy or made of fleece like her own, which rendered it vastly inferior.

The light was coming from a slightly ajar door, the quick succession of light and shadows suggesting that it was coming from a fireplace. She approached on tip-toes, then peeked in.

It looked as though a tornado had picked up everything in the room and thrown it about. The ground, bed and writing desk were all covered with pages covered in script, with balls of crumbled paper here and there. In the middle of the chaos, Rose saw Jane walking back and forth. She was twisting inked covered palms in a way that reminded her of Jackie, a look of great distress on her face.

Should she just leave? Was it right for her to just wander around in the middle of the night? Would Jane be offended? She no longer had the luxury to worry about any if those things when Jane looked up and saw her first.

“Who’s there?”

There was a fear in Jane’s voice that made Rose want to reach out for her. She pushed the door wide open and walked in.

“It’s me, Rose. I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep and I saw light.”

“Oh. It’s fine, please do come in.”

After her initial relief, Jane seemed to notice the state of her room and she blushed. Rose tried her best to clear a spot on the bed subtly, so as not to further Jane’s embarrassment, then sat down.

“Terribly sorry for the mess, I don’t get visitors here very often. I’m generally tidy though, but… since coming here, I’ve been struggling so with my work that I tend to get a bit wrapped up in it.”

Jane picked up a few pieces and went to put them on the writing desk. Rose took advantage of the fact that she had her back to her to steal a peek at one of the pages on the bed next to her. She recognized the name instantly and she smiled. Mr Darcy. _Pride and Prejudice_. She had been right about the date.

“What’s it about?” Rose asked, though she knew full well the story. It felt so odd to her though, to see the novel not as she had grown to love it, but as something that was in the process of being written. It had existed for centuries in her world, and here it was, nothing more than handwritten words on bits of paper. That part of time travel never got old.

“Oh… it's nothing of consequence, really. Just a story,” Jane said, sitting down at an angle on her chair so that she could look at Rose.

“But what about?”

“A lot of silliness. It amused me, but now I fear the story has become far more trouble than it’s worth. Truth be told, the script is rather old, but I just can’t seem to part with it. I keep it in my drawer… These are just some of the changes I’m considering. A bit of a mess, really.”

The difference between the Jane that was before her now and the one she had met at the ball was disconcerting. The intellect was still there, but the bravado was gone. Despite the fact that she probably had a good ten years on Rose, Jane appeared very young indeed.

“Is that why you came here? Change of scenery to help inspiration?”

“Part of it,” Jane replied with a nod. She paused and seemed hesitant to continue. “My father passed away recently. It has been… difficult.”

Rose remembered now. _Pride and Prejudice_ had been published just a year after Jane’s father had died. She remembered that it had been part of the appeal of the book to her, because having lost her father too, she felt a connection to the author. She had always imagined that the relationship between Lizzie and her father in the book had a lot to do with it as well.

“My father passed when I was young. I understand. I’m very sorry.”

“As am I.”

They were silent for a few minutes, both revisiting their own pain. Rose had Pete now, it was true, but despite all her love for him, he would never really be her dad. They were both very conscious of it. Perhaps it was because of Jane’s own story, but the pain of losing her dad felt very vivid, more than it had in years. Clearing her throat, she looked back down at the pages next to her.

“So it’s the ending that’s troubling you, then?”

Jane sighed, though obviously thankful for a change of subject.

“Yes. It really _is_ all about the ending, isn’t it?”

When she had been in school, Rose’s teachers had often reprimanded her for her habit of skipping to the ending when she was but halfway through the book. She would then return to the book, content in knowing that things would end well, or abandon it altogether if they did not. With the Doctor, she had learned that the ride was just as exhilarating when you had no idea how it would end. Perhaps more.

Still, it really was always all about the ending.

“I still think people would want a happy ending, wouldn’t they?”

A shadow passed over Jane’s eyes.

“We all want a happy ending, Rose. I’ve come to learn that we rarely get what we want. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I need to return to my work.”

Pushing on her heels, Jane twisted in her chair so that she was facing the writing desk with her back to Rose. Rose was about to counter with an apology, when something caught her attention on the pages that were spread across the bed. With a frown, she picked one page and after a quick scan, she stuffed it in her pocket with the sonic screwdriver.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you. It’s very late, I should go.”

Jane offered not response and Rose was off, being careful not to step on any pages as she went.

\--

Breakfast was… unpleasant. For lack of a more fitting and even _less fun_ word.

People appeared groggy, most of them keeping their eyes fixed on their plate. It took the Doctor a bit by surprise, but he chose to blame it on this period’s version of a hangover. Mr Austen excused himself early, saying he was expected at his office, which left the breakfast table rather empty. There was another notable absentee: Jane had sent word that she felt unwell.

“See! There _is_ something wrong,” Rose told him pointedly in a low voice. She had shown him the page before they had come down and obviously felt like this situation just further proved her point.

He had to admit, the ending he had read on that page varied wildly from the published version. He still doubted that there was anything out of order though – all authors made changes to their work between the time it was finished and its publication.

“It doesn’t mean anything, really. Perhaps she just wants more time to focus on her work.”

Rose gave him an incredulous look.

“A book that now includes Mr Darcy being killed in a duel, yeah?”

He shrugged, but it was evident that Rose was not about to let go. She seemed to be about to say something else, but instead she suddenly pressed her lips together in a tense smile. The cook bent between the two of them and placed plates filled with pastries on the table, looking rather discontent. He frowned. Since when was the cook in the habit of serving breakfast?

“Excuse me, where is the young maid I talked to yesterday?”

“Aubergine is feeling unwell, sir. She would not come out of her room this morning, so we are a bit shorthanded at present,” she said, clearly addressing the two Austen girls as she spoke the second sentence. It was obvious that she expected there would be repercussions to the young girl’s conduct.

“Ah.”

The cook placed a second plate on the table next to Amelia and the Doctor thought he saw the girl wince, leaning a bit away from the cook His thoughts were otherwise occupied by Aubrey, but he did wonder a bit at that. Amelia probably noticed he was looking at her, because she spoke the moment the cook had exited the room.

“I never did like her. Papa says she’s a good cook, but she was always so mean to me as a kid. Made me afraid of going into the kitchen, she did.”

That was definitely a sentiment he could sympathize with.

“She is rather an excellent cook though, you have to admit to that,” Mrs Brook pointed out. Amelia shrugged, bowing her head. “It seems to be a nice day out and I had entertained the thought of going for some shopping. Would you care to join me?”

Amelia replied with a nod, though she did not appear particularly enthused. Clara announced that she was going to practise her piano, because she was growing terrified that all her skills were gone from lack of play. Next, Mrs Brook turned expectant eyes to Rose. He saw Rose shift uncomfortably on her chair and she glanced his way. Remembering how much help she had been the night before in getting him out of a similar situation, he smiled, before answering for her. “I’m sure Rose would love to, wouldn’t you, Rose?”

She glared at him, her cheeks flushing red. His smile grew even wider.

“Of course.”

She kicked him in the shin under the table and he pressed his lips together to hold back his moan. The three women made plans to depart within an hour of leaving the table, but he was barely listening by then. In his head, he brought up a mental floor plan of the house as best as he could tell from his knowledge of it. There would have to be some exploring to do.

\--

Rose would have said that she loved shopping. With the Doctor, she had often gone through markets on various planets, looking through trinkets and picking a few things for herself or others. For all her complaining, Jackie did love the souvenirs Rose would bring back from time to time.

Yet, an hour more of this and Rose suspected she would grow bored out of her mind. Literally.

Perhaps it was because all she really wanted was to spend more time with Jane, trying to figure out what was wrong with her writing. The Doctor may be right, it would not be the first time that there were alternate endings to a book, but it _felt_ wrong. If Rose had learnt anything in the last few years, it had been to trust her gut instincts. Right now, they were telling her that something was going on here.

“What do you think of this brooch, Mrs Smith?”

Mrs Brook’s voice brought her out of her reverie and she looked down at the piece of jewellery the woman was holding up for her inspection. She did not even care to correct her on her name. Rose had lost count of how many shops they had visited and they were all starting to blend together, along with their merchandise. Adding to her annoyance, there was a song stuck in her head. She was trying to figure out exactly what it was, because she suspected it would lead to a full blown migraine if left to roam in her brain too long.

“S’very nice,” she shrugged.

“If you don’t mind me saying, you seem a bit distraught,” Mrs Brook said on a compassionate tone. Rose groaned internally. The last thing she wanted was to discuss her feelings with the woman. She was nice enough, but she doubted they shared much in common. Not enough to build bridges upon, at the very least.

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“I had a most dreadful night as well,” Amelia exclaimed next to Mrs Brook. This was the most invested Rose had seen her in hours. “I had terrible nightmares.”

Mrs Brook placed a reassuring hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “Now, Amelia. I’m sure you were just tired from the ball, that’s all. I think we’re all a bit tired, aren’t we? Perhaps we should make it back home?”

Rose sighed with relief, though she could not help noticing that Amelia looked anything but. With eyes as round as buttons, she shook her head.

“No. I do… I do believe I have some more shopping to do. There is… there is an acquaintance in town to whom I owe a well overdue visit. But you go ahead.”

Amelia spoke very fast, her voice childish and uneven. She looked terrified. When neither Rose nor Mrs Brook said anything, she turned and hurried way.

“What a very peculiar girl…” Mrs Brook commented. Rose had to agree. The woman next turned to Rose. “Shall we?”

Rose took the offered arm, expecting it would be a rather long walk home.

\--

Hopefully, the fifth room would be the right one, the Doctor thought as he raised his fist. He knocked three times, then called out Aubrey's name and waited.

Silence.

Pressing his ear to the door, he tried to focus on the noises inside. He heard nothing at first, then came a faint noise. It sounded like a sob. “Aubrey? It's the Doctor.”

He heard shuffling behind the door and finally it opened. Aubrey stood in the threshold, her eyes red, her pinafore wrinkled and her hair undone. She was shaking like a leaf.

“What's wrong?”

She blinked but said nothing, brushing away tears with the back of her hands. He noticed that the skin of her hands was red, as though rubbed raw. Moving past her, he entered the room and looked around.

The room was simple enough, but in order aside from the unmade bed. There was a bit of untouched food on the side table. He turned back to the girl, repeating his question.

“The spiders, sir. Everywhere I look, everything I touch. In the food!” Aubrey pointed a trembling finger at the bit of bread and fruit in the plate and he reached for it. She cried out when he took the bread in his hands. “Be careful!”

He sniffed at the bread, looked at it, then took a bite. Aubrey gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.

“Nothing wrong with this bread, Aubrey,” he said around the food, then swallowed. He put the rest of the bread down on the plate, then rubbed both hands together to get rid of the crumbs. The maid still looked uncertain. “How long have you been seeing these things?”

She still appeared a bit shaken, but his presence was obviously reassuring. Still, she was twisting the fabric of her pinafore between her fingers with obvious anxiety. He had almost given up on her ever providing him with an answer when she finally spoke.

“About a week, sir. 'Round the same time as the lights over the Thames.”

“What lights over the Thames?” he asked, his mind fired up.

“Miss Jane called them northern lights, sir. She saw them too. It was late into the night and I'm usually in bed, but Miss Amelia was feeling unwell, so I had just gotten up to check on her as she had asked.”

It made no sense. Northern lights localized right over the Thames? The Doctor glanced out the window, but they were on the other side of the house, opposite the river. He needed to check the TARDIS for readings. Remembering Aubrey's presence, he spun to face her again. With two long strides, he reached her and placed both hands on her shoulders reassuringly.

“Aubrey, listen to me. Whatever you might see, whatever you might hear, it's just someone playing tricks on you. I promise that I'll take care of it.”

She nodded at him. He knew she was putting all of her somewhat naive trust in him, a man she had only met the night before. He hoped that he would prove himself deserving of it.

\--

Rose excused herself the moment Mrs Brook and she made it home, then made a beeline for Jane's room. She was a bit afraid of what she would find behind the closed door, but she took a deep breath and walked in.

It was worse than she had imagined.

There were pages covering every centimetre of the floor now. Some were covered with script, others were torn and a few more were crumbled in a ball. Rose gasped and Jane turned from her writing desk. She was crying.

“Rose.”

Rose was to her an instant, taking the quill out of her hand and placing it in its holder. She lowered herself so that she could look at Jane in the eyes, but was still struggling to find the right words when the woman spoke again.

“The words keep coming, Rose. They’re in my head… All these possibilities and I can’t make them stop. How does it end?”

“It’s gonna be fine, don’t worry,” she replied, though she had rarely doubted her own words as much. She pulled Jane’s head to her shoulder and wrapped her arms around her, hoping the embrace would fill the gaps and provide comfort where her words could not.

“Rose…”

She pulled back, eyes meeting with Jane’s.

“You’re humming.”

Rose opened her mouth to protest, then gasped when she realised that Jane was right. Without being conscious of it, she had been humming the song that had been stuck in her head all day. She could hear it more clearly though, as if it was not just in her head, but actually playing.

Because it was.

A frown creasing her brow, Rose stood up. Jane’s fingers closed around her wrist, stopping her from taking another step towards the door. It sounded like piano. “Is Clara still in the house?”

Jane seemed to have no answer. Fine. It would not be the first time Rose faced something that frightened her. She reached out and scooped up Jane’s free hand in hers.

“Something’s going on in this house, Jane,” she said, her eyes sweeping the room. It stood as enough evidence to support her suspicions and she was pretty confident that they were only about to discover more. “We need to figure out what. Can’t very well do that in this room, can we?”

Jane’s complexion took on a definite shade of green and she looked like she was about to say that staying where they were satisfied her completely. Not giving her the chance to do so, Rose pulled on her hand and the author had no choice but to follow.

Slowly, they made their way down the corridor towards the music room. As they approached, the music grew louder and louder. Finally, they rounded the last corner and were greeted by a bizarre sight.

Clara was sitting at the grand piano, playing the same succession of notes over and over. It was a melody Rose knew too well. Jane seemed to regain some her bravado and she passed Rose, advancing towards her cousin.

“Clara? Please. Clara…”

With a gasp of shock, Jane paused on the other side of the piano. Rose could feel tendrils of growing panic wrap themselves tighter around her heart.

“What? What’s wrong?”

When Jane did not reply, her eyes focused on the keyboard, Rose hurried to her side. From simply bizarre, the situation took a nose dive into horror. The ivory keys were stained red.

Both Jane and Rose reached for Clara at the same time, pulling her hands away from the keyboard. The blood was crusted around her fingernails, but she was most definitely still bleeding. She must have been playing manically for hours, the pressure harming her fingers and nails. The young girl shrieked like a fury, pulling hard on her arms to free herself. “Leave me! I have to play! Don’t you understand? I have to get it right, or I’ll forget everything!”

The commotion caused Mrs Brook to come running in. She stared in horror as Rose and Jane struggled to keep their hold on Clara. “What’s happening?”

“Go get Amelia!” Jane cried out, her eyes never leaving her cousin.

“She’s gone! She hasn’t returned from our shopping trip. She…”

“Go get the Doctor! Down by the Thames, there’s a blue police box. Go!” Rose interrupted, knowing full well that Amelia was still away and where she had gone. When she heard nothing, she looked up. “Go!”

Mrs Brook gave a nod and gathered her skirt, leaving the way she had come.  



	3. The Tenth Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Doctor's plan for an anniversary celebration is ruined, his back-up plan leads them to meet with one of Rose's favorite authors. But celebration is the last thing on their mind when it becomes obvious that something is wrong - something that could threaten the life and sanity of everyone it crosses path with. 
> 
> Episode 6 of a virtual series at [](http://the-altverse.livejournal.com/profile)[**the_altverse**](http://the-altverse.livejournal.com/) , following [The Stuff of Nightmares](http://community.livejournal.com/the_altverse/2920.html) last week.  
> [Virtual Series Masterlist  
> ](http://community.livejournal.com/the_altverse/343.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksto [](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/)**shinyopals** for all the help and to everyone who provided assistance and compassion. A bit of a scare, some humor and a pinch of romance.

The Doctor walked out of the TARDIS still scratching the back of his neck, trying to make sense of the readings the ship had provided him with. He had been able to trace something, but it was no longer localized around the Thames. If the TARDIS were to be trusted – and he liked to think she was – the phenomena had spread all over the city like a mist. It might explain how oddly calm the river banks were, with only a few people here and there. But he would have noticed something of that magnitude, he simply would have. He was so focused on his thoughts that he almost walked straight into Mrs Brook. The look of bewilderment on her face made him freeze where he stood.

“Oh. This is… a…” he began, trying to come with some explanation for having just stepped out of a police box. How much _had_ she seen, he wondered as he tried to read her expression. She did not look afraid, but she regarded him with a sort of astonishment that bordered on wonder. “What are you doing here?”

The woman gave a quick shake of the head, as though she was trying to recover her senses. “Your wife!”

The Doctor felt his heart sink. “What happened to Rose?”

“She asked me to come and get you! Oh, such terrible things, Doctor!”

She reached forward and grabbed his wrist, pulling him behind her as she turned in the direction of the Austen home. The Doctor did not move.

He couldn’t.

The moment she touched him, his head was filled with fire. Nearly a millennium of memories came rushing back, all fighting for his primary focus. Then came things he had no recognition of, events of unspeakable nature. They were made of violence and blood, the likes of which only a Time Lord brain could bear. Behind his eyelids, the images were vivid, pushing him to the brim of insanity.

He saw the vortex. He saw the end of all things. He saw Rose.

He jerked his wrist free, stumbling back. He stopped only when his back hit the TARDIS, the doors creaking faintly under the impact.

“Interesting,” Mrs Brook said, tilting her head to one side and cocking an eyebrow at him. She did not look the least bit troubled by what had just occurred. “I’ve never seen anyone on whom the effects were so strong.”

He massaged his wrist where she had touched him, feeling the ripples of alien energy continue making their way through his entire body. His nervous system was on high alert as it tried to fight the sudden invasion. “What are you?”

“Humans always were my favourite playthings. They’re always so surprising.”

As she spoke, her curls started to fall around her face like someone was undoing her hair, of their own accord. The shift in her skin tone was subtle, but definitely there. It had a shine to it now, almost like marble.

“What are you?” the Doctor enquired again, eyes wide.

“I could ask the same thing, _Doctor_. Your essence… it’s human but it’s… it’s different.”

The changes had been so subtle and yet the transformation was undeniable. The woman that stood before him looked like a ghostly echo of Mrs Brook. He suspected that she still did not hold her true form, because he had no idea what she truly was. He needed to get her to talk.

Thankfully, that was something he knew a thing or two about.

“We all have our secrets. Seems to me you’ve been keeping a lot.”

The alien laughed and it was one of the most horrible things he had ever heard. His skin felt like ice where she had touched him.

“Oh, Doctor. I’ve told no lie – simply implied things. I love this era. People are so willing to believe anything as long as it flatters their fancy. They’re so stupid, humans would be funny if they weren’t so pathetic.”

“Oi!” the Doctor let out, feeling offended on behalf of his own humanity.

“But they are. I never did understand how my sisters could act so below their own ranks and submit to them so,” the alien continued, disgust evident in her voice.

“Sisters?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and they flared – actually flared – then were back to normal.

“I’ve been here before, Doctor. I’ve been here for centuries, _caught_ in this bare land, never suspecting that a city of this magnitude was developing right above me. Not that anyone would know. Do you know how much it hurts when someone destroys a statue of you?”

He frowned, pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place.

“It’s like they’re clawing your skin off. They pick and they choose like they know what’s best for them. But we know. I know. My sisters forgot. They fell in love with this rubbish race. All nine of them. They forgot that the humans were supposed to submit to _us_.”

The more she spoke, the quicker the changes in her appearance. She was growing agitated and careless. Her skin was the colour of porcelain and her hair fell in long waves around her. Her entire body had shifted and looked nearly skeletal now, the hard skin tight around the bone.

“When the humans decided that they had enough of me, that _my_ inspiration was no longer worth their worship, my sisters made sure I would never again trouble them. They imprisoned me, fat lot of good that did them. A few thousand years later, I make it out and what do I learn? Their humans had had enough of them too. And you know what my sisters did, Doctor?”

He knew. “They went home.”

Her face was twisted in a grimace. Anger was radiating from her and he could feel it begin to affect him, as though it was making its way through every pore of his skin.

“ _They went home_ ,” she repeated. She took a step in his direction, but he held his ground. She was mere inches away from him now and everything in his body was telling him to recoil. He had never been one to run though and today would be no different.

Especially since he knew exactly what she was.

“You’re a muse.”

She seemed rather pleased with him. “Very good, Doctor”

“You’re the tenth muse,” he added, eyes roaming her face. She was too close and claustrophobia was seizing him, but he simply could not look away or even take a step back – whether he wanted it or not. The TARDIS doors were directly behind him and opening them to take refuge in the ship was out of the question since he would allow her entry too.

“I was right. You’re not like the rest of them, you do have a semblance of a brain, at the very least.”

“Well. Bit more than that, really.”

The muse laughed again and he swallowed hard. Next, she reached up and touched his face with the tip of her fingers. Her skin was icy cold and her touch chilled him to the bone.

“I like to think I’m the best. My sisters were always so selfless and depended so on humans, whereas I kept my strength. Even trapped, my inspiration made it through the centuries. Tragedy, poetry, comedy… It bears no comparison to the strength one can gain from my own speciality.”

He needed no help to know just what he meant. It was the very thing that filled his mind with thoughts of Rose, despite being the one in presence of the muse and in direct danger. It was the thing that left him unable to move.

“Fear.”

She threw her head back and her laughter came again, though her mouth remained close. Yet, the sound filled his head, echoing in the recesses of his mind. She was using telepathy.

He knew the transformation was complete then. She had given up all pretences of humanity and the being that stood before him was the very race that had come to Earth millenniums before, just one piece of Greek mythology that he knew had alien origins.

“This race is filled with fear, Doctor, and I will suck them dry. All these thoughts, this endless rotation of possibilities that flash through their mind at the slightest hint of shadows. It’s delicious.”

He could feel the full strength of her power. It left him terrified to speak, the very thoughts she was referring to taking over the images his eyes were perceiving and replacing them with pictures of Rose and death. Rose on the ground, barely breathing. Rose with blood staining her clothes. Rose, staring blankly at the sky, life gone from her eyes.

He fell to his knees.

“I have everything I need right here to gather enough strength to allow me revenge. My sisters will weep and everyone will know my wrath.”

The Doctor remained still long after the muse had gone, fighting an internal battle he wasn’t sure he could win.  
\--

Rose thought the sound would make her mad. They had had to let go of Clara, unable to contain her, and she was back to playing the same song over and over again, the very one that had never left Rose’s mind for the last day. At the first sound of foot steps, she glanced up, expecting to see Mrs Brook return with the Doctor.

The sight was both horrifying and awe inspiring. The woman she had known as Mrs Brook was standing in the doorway, locks of her long brown hair slithering around her like snakes. Her irises had turned a fiery orange, the pupils a bright yellow, and her skin was the colour of snow. Though she was still wearing the same dress, it fell differently against her body and Rose realized that it was because she stood taller than before, her limbs now long and thin. It brought to memory the pictures of Medusa Rose had both loved and feared as a child; the creature was equally fascinating and terrifying. She was also very much alone.

Jumping to her feet, Rose reached out for Jane and she pulled the woman behind her.

“What are you?”

Mrs Brook focussed her eyes on Rose and the song in her head grew louder, making her feel as though her skull was about to split open.

“Your husband had such questions too,” came a voice through the chaos, though Rose’s eyes were filled with tears and she saw nothing. “But I have no need for you. I only need Jane.”

Just like its echo in Rose’s head, the song Clara was playing grew louder and more frantic, as though she was hammering away at the keys. Rose felt Jane grab her hand and she squeezed it in response, trying her best to offer comfort though she herself had none. “What do you need her for?”

“Her uncertainties and fears. They are… unique.”

The creature took a step in their direction and Rose knew what her only option was. Run.

Rose pulled Jane behind her, trying her best to maintain her balance. The piano was becoming more faint as they ran down the corridors, though perhaps it was only covered by the sound of her own frantic heartbeat. She was certain that she could still hear footsteps behind them though, so she hurriedly turned one last corner and made for Jane’s room. She closed the door behind them just in time, as it was followed by a loud pounding. Rose put her back to the door, hoping it would hold.

“He always liked the ending...”

Jane's voice was barely audible over the chaos in Rose's mind. Her eyes watered as she tried to focus on the task at hand and separate the pure inspiration brought on by the alien from reality. Reaching out a shaking hand, she grasped the fabric of Jane's sleeve, as much to steady herself as to gain the woman's attention.

“Who did? Jane?”

Through her blurry vision, Rose saw Jane look up and even in her state, she could discern the pain that twisted her features.

“My father. He loved happy endings. He said things end well, as they ought to, at least sometimes.”

The banging against the door continued, having grown in strength and pace since it had first started. Beyond the threshold, they could perceive agitation punctuated by furious shrieks and cries of horror. Yet, for a moment, everyone and everything within the confines of Jane's room stood perfectly still. The two women stood face to face, both bracing themselves by holding on to the other's arms. In the recesses of Rose's mind, at the eye of the storm, she felt things fully fall into place. It made perfect sense, even though she could not explain it. Jane needed to finish the book. It was the one thing that had been out of order since the start, growing exponentially worse as time went by.

“He was right, Jane. Sometimes it ends well. You need to finish it the way it should be, Jane.”

Rose's steady voice had a calming effect on them both and after a short moment, Jane gave a small nod, tears streaming down her face. When she pulled away, turning to the writing desk to start collecting the pages, Rose smiled and followed her lead. She had only two pages in hand when the pain brought her to her knees. Like a tidal wave, the chaos of voices and images had only pulled back to come back more devastating. Rose bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep herself from crying out, attempting to conceal her leg failing her by picking up the pages that had fallen to the ground.

The woman was not easily fooled though and she reached down to take Rose's free hand in hers, helping her back to her feet. Outside, the screams grew louder and more desperate, as though the muse had knowledge of their actions. _She must have_ , Rose's own voice echoed in her mind amidst the whirlwind that clouded her judgement. Her suspicions were confirmed when at once the door flew open. This time, the cry was out of her lips before she could even think of holding it back.

“Get back!” Rose heard herself shout, feeling as though the room around her was pulsating. It was probably best that her instincts had seemingly taken over, because her brain barely responded to any prompts beyond primal fear. She was conscious of Jane's grip on her fingers and the feel of paper in her other hand, but it was difficult to remember what task they were attempting to accomplish.. The muse smiled and it chilled Rose to the bone.

“ _Get back_ ,” Rose's words echoed back to her, though it came from the muse's direction. It was her own voice, but it sounded different. There was a macabre mocking tone to it.

In Rose's head, the voices grew louder and she could make out phrases here and here. Some were from her past, some from her present and hopefully, some were from the alien's frightful inspiration powers and would never go on to be part of her future. She was barely conscious of having fallen to the ground, of Jane calling out for her.

“You need to finish the book, Jane..” she thought she heard herself say, though with the alien in close proximity she couldn’t be sure. There was movement behind her, but she was so far gone she doubted even that.

“It’s finished. Rose! The ending. It was always there.”

Jane’s hands closed around hers and she waved pages in front of Rose’s eyes. Still, the alien was advancing towards them. Suddenly, she heard a cry and a human shape jumped into the room, its long arms wrapping around the alien’s waist and pulling her back. The creature shrieked and its feet kicked, but the arms held on.

“You need to burn them. All the alternate endings! Burn them!”

She instantly recognized the Doctor’s voice and it brought her back to Earth. Putting aside the precious pages Jane had just handed to her, she grabbed everything else. She knew the rest of the script was tucked away in Jane’s drawer, all the pages surrounding them part of the endings and doubts that were feeding the alien. Together with Jane, she gathered them all as the Doctor struggled with the muse.

It shrieked loudly and its skin began to crack when Jane threw the first stack of pages in the fireplace. The Doctor ducked, letting go of the alien. As more pages burnt, the creature’s skin cracked like glass, flames appearing to come from within. Rose reached into her pocket, taking out the page she had taken from Jane’s room the night before. She threw it in the fire and the flames completely took over the muse’s body. Rose felt herself thrown to the ground, the heavy weight of the Doctor’s body making it impossible to move. She heard Jane cough next to her and she tried to call out for her, but her voice was muffled by the Doctor’s clothing. She pushed against his chest and he pulled back. He was on his knees, looking her over with worry.

“All right?”

She nodded, because she truly was. All the chaos of fears and voices had gone, leaving in its place an immense sense of relief. It was like letting go of a very heavy burden and she smiled, before pulling him into a tight embrace.

\--

A good night of sleep later, Jane and Rose were both standing by the Thames. Fresh air would be good after spending so much time locked inside, Rose had offered. The TARDIS stood a few feet away, the Doctor busy setting up the coordinates for their next travel. She knew he had only gone ahead because he had understood her unspoken desire to talk with Jane on her own.

The Doctor had explained a lot, though he had only had to fill a few holes here in there. The muse had placed so much of her recovery into Jane’s doubts and fears that destroying the physical evidence of them had done the trick. Not that fear was completely gone, it would never cease to exist, but the catalyst of such terrors as the ones they had just experienced was most certainly a thing of the past. Clara’s fingers would recover and Amelia had returned home, no longer scared out of her wits by the cook. The Doctor had expressed some fears that Aubrey may be left scarred by her hallucinations, but Rose dared hope that given time, she too would get better.

The tune had been a bit of a siren song, a way for the muse to work her way into people’s subconscious. Different people perceived it differently. Rose and Clara had both heard the song, while others around them had been affected by the ripples in a different manner – nightmares for a few like Amelia, exhaustion for some others like the Doctor. She was just thankful that the Doctor had been able to recover as he had, coming to his senses fast enough to help them save the day and their own lives.

“When my father died...” Jane began, then paused, her eyes on the Thames as she appeared to take a moment to collect her thoughts. Rose fought to swallow the lump in her throat, her own familiar pain echoing the sadness she could hear in the other woman's voice. Jane turned to her, revealing red-rimmed eyes. “When Father died, I stopped believing in the stories he told me as a girl. I couldn't fathom that happy endings existed in a world that would take him from me.”

A chilly gust of wind picked up tendrils of Rose's hair and made the brim of Jane's bonnet dance back and forth as the two women regarded each other. They both understood, without the need for words. As she tucked the loose curls behind her ears, Rose blinked a few times to keep the tears at bay. Behind them, she heard the TARDIS doors open. She could sense the Doctor standing there and knew that he had chosen to stay back to allow them time to talk. Jane had heard as well and she glanced at him over her shoulder. When she turned back to Rose, there was a knowing smile on her face.

“But then... I look at you two, and what you can do. You came and you quelled my fears. You're right, Rose...”

Jane picked Rose's left hand, the fabric of her glove soft against her skin. The older woman brushed her thumb gently over Rose's wedding band. “Sometimes things end well. And some ends are just beginnings.”

With a soft squeeze of Rose's fingers, Jane made to leave but Rose's voice stopped her.

“I'll make sure to get a copy of your book, when it's published. I predict it'll be a hit, _Pride and Prejudice_.”

The woman frowned and it only took a second for Rose to realize the cause of Jane's confusion. She barely resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands, which was fortunate because had she done so, she would have missed what followed. The confusion faded quickly, leaving place to delight. “It's _First Impressions_ , actually. But I like that. _Pride and Prejudice_...”

Jane seemed to repeat it over in her head a few times, then she smiled brightly at her before turning away and merging with the London streets crowd, which had returned to its normal volume after dissipating under the effects of the muse’s presence. Rose's eyes followed her until she turned into a perpendicular street, her cheeks still flushed from the embarrassment of her accidental revelation. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the Doctor's approach but she said nothing.

Her hair was losing its hopeless battle against the wind, almost making her wish she had accepted Amelia's offer of a bonnet. Feeling a soft weight against her lower back, she leaned into the touch for a short moment, then turned to face her husband. His arm around her waist pulled her closer and he wordlessly enveloped her in a comforting embrace. The winter storm and city life rang loud in her ears as she pressed her face against his chest, but it wasn't long before one sound fought its way through, muting everything else around it. It was like a beacon. _Thump thump. Thump thump._ The beating of his single heart. They remained like this for a long moment, neither of them willing to move.

“My original anniversary plans would have gone much better,” the Doctor finally said, so matter-of-factually that she could not help what came next. The laughter rose from deep inside, filling her with a warmth made of such unadulterated joy and love that she reached up to kiss him soundly even as she laughed still. She could feel his own lips form a smile under hers and when she pulled back, his face was the picture of contentment.

“Wouldn't be a proper Doctor and Rose anniversary if it did, now would it?

He beamed at her words, then pulled her in for a bone crushing hug. When she whispered in his ear that they still had some private celebrating to do, he gave her another squeeze, then pulled back abruptly and grabbed her hand. He started running before she could guess his intentions and the sudden momentum almost made her trip. She recovered nicely, laughing all the way to the TARDIS.

Sometimes, things did end well.


End file.
